


Nothing Else Matters

by ineffablestarkrogers



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Steve Rogers, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, How Do I Tag, Idiots in Love, M/M, NSFW, Nerd Bucky Barnes, Possesive Bucky, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Punk Steve Rogers, Sharing Clothes, Smut, Tattoo Artist Steve Rogers, Teacher Bucky Barnes, Top Bucky Barnes, hhhhhhh its just fluff and smut, possessive kink, steve is a rain cloud and Bucky’s a nerd, they love eachother a lot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-27 13:25:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16219979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ineffablestarkrogers/pseuds/ineffablestarkrogers
Summary: Steve had been stealing his clothes long before they moved in together, hell, long before they were even dating. But he can’t ever remember his baby ever wearing his hoodie.dec '18 edit: THIS IS NO LONGER A PART OF THE STARS IN YOUR EYES VERSE





	Nothing Else Matters

**Author's Note:**

> Uhhhhh steve is a skinny punk tattoo artist, bucky is a nerdy Astrophysics professor/post-grad person.
> 
> It works
> 
> NSFW warning for smut

Bucky had just come back from a long day at the university, Clint had already put up the horrific combination of Halloween and Christmas decorations that stay up in the office until at least January 14 (currently it smelled like pumpkin spice and cinnamon, there was precious little time until it would begin smelling like ‘Christmas’ and non of the heaters would work) and it was dark by the time he had locked the door of his and his boyfriend's apartment behind him and hung up his keys on the hook next to Steve’s. He let his bag fall to the floor, teeming with essays to mark; he loved teaching collage kids, lord knows they’re better than high-schoolers – no matter what age you were, high school was hell – but damn, they wrote a lot, and went to find Steve.

Bucky found him in the kitchen, at their table with papers upon papers with red, green and blue numbers and graphs and Steve’s horrendous chicken-scratch all over it in purple (his boyfriend was an artist by trade, there was no doubt about that, and he loved him, undeniably, but he couldn’t read it at a—

Steve was wearing his hoodie.

Bucky froze, half in the doorway, half in the kitchen. Half illuminated by the soft, yellow light, half shrouded in darkness.

“Hey Baby.”

“Oh hey Buck,” Steve turned around and _fuck_ he was wearing his glasses. Bucky knew that he hated them, Steve said that they made him look ‘nerdy’ and that ‘no one would trust a half-blind tattoo artist’ but Bucky thought they looked downright adorable.

“Watcha’ doin’,” he asked, falling into his accent more, smirking little when Steve’s eyes widened.

He closed his eyes, trying to keep himself under control because they’ve been together for _six years dammit_ , Bucky’s _fucking voice_ should not have that much of an affect on him anymore but _fuck_ it still does.

However, Steve knew how to play to his strengths. Bucky had a huge possessive kink (he wasn’t sure if he was aware of it or not, but it was definitely there).

Steve shrugged his shoulders, seemingly nonchalantly, making sure the hoodie – Bucky’s hoodie – slipped a little, exposing part of his collar bone and neck, showing off a faint purple hickey from two nights ago and the chain of Bucky’s dog tags.

“Finances,” he said, finally, standing up and twisting the rest of his body around to face Bucky. He lifted his arms up, asking a silent question. Bucky immediately complied, stepping forwards in two long strides and wrapping his boyfriend up in his arms. 

“Love you,” Steve murmured into Bucky’s shirt. Bucky smiled into his hair, “I love ya too, Stevie.”

 

Steve pulled back slightly to stand on his tiptoes and kissed Bucky. Home, finally.

 

The kiss turned frantic, dirty and hot quickly. Bucky swiped his tongue across Steve’s bottom lip, asking for permission, which he was immediately granted, Steve opened his mouth more for Bucky’s tongue to lick and prod every inch of it. 

Steve groaned when they pulled back for air. He looked utterly wrecked; his hair was a mess, his glasses were askew, his lips were red, shiny and spit-slicked and his pupils were blown wide. All from a kiss.

“Fuck, Stevie, you look so good,” Bucky said, tilting his head to trail kisses down Steve’s neck, biting and licking at the old mark, “in my hoodie, those fucking glasses, marked by me, wearin’ my tags.”  
Steve tilted his head back to give Bucky more access, he bit harshly at a new spot on his collar bone making Steve gasp “Buck…”, he licked at the spot and kissed it softly, smirking at the bruise already forming.

Bucky pulled Steve up and kissed him again thoroughly, taking and taking and taking, swallowing every little gasp and moan he made, “Want you, Buck.” Bucky slid his hands lower until he reached Steve’s perfect ass, he kneaded it between his fingers, pulling a groan from both of them.

Suddenly, Bucky picked Steve up, his hands securely on is ass and Steve’s legs wrapped tightly around his waist, his arms around Bucky’s neck.  
He carried him to their bedroom with minimal bumping (they were never gonna get that deposit back on their apartment), he flicked the light on and dropped Steve on his back on their bed, “I want to fuck you, Stevie,” Bucky said, his voice borderline growling,  
“Baby, I’m all yours,” Steve said breathlessly, “all yours.” 

Their hands were frantic, running up and down backs, arms, biceps, hair. Their clothes were coming off, fast, jeans, shirt, undershirt, but when Steve reached to pull off the hoodie he was wearing, Bucky stopped him, “I want to fuck you in it,”  
Steve moaned at that, “Then get on with it,”  
Bucky bit his shoulder, “Bossy,”  
Steve looked up at him through hooded eyes, his pupils dilated so much, his irises were mere blue slivers and gasped when Bucky bit his shoulder again and licked at the mark.

Steve ground up against Bucky, their erections, trapped in their boxers, rubbing together, making both of them groan. “These,” Steve said, “off,” Bucky immediately complied, pulling back to tug his underwear off and lifting Steve’s hips to pull his off as well.

They stopped, staring into each other’s eyes for a beat, before Steve rolled them over, managing to do it more by surprise than actual strength, so he ended up on top.  
He began kissing and licking and biting down Bucky’s muscled torso, leaving a wet trail of bruises, reaching his cock and stretching his lips around the tip.  
Bucky let out a shout and slipped his hands into Steve’s hair, pulling a little, making Steve moan around his cock, sending vibrations up his spine, “ _Fuck_ , Stevie.”

Steve made it all the way to the base of Bucky’s cock, his nose hitting his stomach, when he pulled off, making Bucky groan, he said, “Buck, can I ride you,”  
“Fuck, Stevie, baby, yeah,” he pulled him up for a fierce kiss, biting his lip, almost drawing blood, making Steve moan, loudly, barely muffled by Bucky’s lips.

Without breaking their kiss, Bucky reached blindly for the lube of their night stand, knocking over something in the process (he didn’t really care right now). He manoeuvred them so he was sitting up against the headboard with his legs spread slightly and Steve was sitting on his thighs, his legs straddling Bucky’s waist.

Bucky opened up their bottle of lube, one handed, with a click and slicked up one finger, trailing his hand down to Steve’s crack, he teased his hole. Steve let out a high-pitched moan and arched his back, trying to grind down on his finger.  
“Bucky,” he whined,  
“I will, baby, I will,” Bucky reassured him, kissing him softly, pulling away when Steve tried to make it deeper and dirtier. He kissed him on the cheek, then, pushed his finger in slowly, first, second, third knuckle in and pumped it in and out of Steve.

Steve let out a loud moan, “More, Buck, please,” he begged, Bucky complied, sliding a second finger in with the first, scissoring and bending them then—

“FUCK, Bucky,” Steve yelled when Bucky grazed his prostate, moving his hips to try and get Bucky to move faster and harder. Steve was almost constant noise, most of it coherent strings of ‘fuck’ ‘Bucky’ ‘more’ and ‘harder’, some of just moans, god he was beautiful.

When Bucky added a third, lubed finger, to make sure he was thoroughly stretched, Steve closed his eyes and tried to ride his hand, Bucky stilled him, “Ah, Stevie, you’re so fucking desperate, baby, tryna’ ride my hand, can’t wait for my cock, can ya, sugar,”  
Steve let out a sound, half moan, half Bucky’s name, at Bucky’s words and _that fucking accent_.

He gasped at the loss, his hole clenching around nothing when Bucky took his hand out to lube his cock, he moaned at the friction and at the bruising kisses Steve was biting and liking down his neck, unable to keep his hands (and lips) off him. 

Bucky held onto Steve’s hips and helped him kneel up, his hole hovering above his cock. Steve held onto Bucky’s shoulders, both of them groaning in tandem, as he lowered himself down, until Steve was fully seated on Bucky’s cock.

The only sound in the room for a few seconds was their breathing, in time. They kissed, sweetly, and then Steve began to rock up and down slowly on Bucky’s cock, pulling deep, low groans from him.

He built up speed until he was bouncing up and down, his thighs tensing and his hole clenching, his sweaty hair flopping all over the place. He was constant noise, all of it an incoherent mess of curses and moans and whines and Bucky.

Bucky wasn’t doing any better than Steve, he was quieter than him but he was still constant noise, little huffs and groaned and an innumerable amount of pet names and nicknames for Steve. 

Bucky rolled them over when he noticed Steve slowing down a little, his breath coming faster, so he was on top, Steve was on his back, boxed in by Bucky’s arms, folded in fucking half as Bucky pounded into him relentlessly, hitting his prostate with every thrust. 

Steve was overwhelmed by Bucky, he was wearing his hoodie, he was on top of him, boxed in, Bucky in him. 

“Buck, Bucky, ah, I’m cl-cl- _fuck_ -close,”

“I know, baby, _oh fuck you’re so tight sugar_ , oh fuck, I know,”

“Bucky!—

“Fuck, Stevie, baby!”

They both came, Steve a loud, incoherent mess of Bucky-Bucky-Bucky all over Bucky and his hoodie and Bucky inside of Steve, filling him up.

Bucky collapsed half on top of Steve, not completely as to not crush him, half twisted in the sheets. “I love you, baby, I love you,” Bucky panted, pulling out of Steve, watching his come trickle out of his puffy hole, down his thighs. “I love you too, Bucky, so goddamn much,” Steve replied, winding a hand through his hair, wrapping it around his fingers. 

They stayed like that for a while, time meaningless to them, then Steve wriggled around, sitting up and leaning against the headboard. “You’re possessive kink is hot, Buck, but I’m hot in this,” Steve said, answering Bucky’s questioning look, “I know you’re hot in’it, baby, tha’s why I ask’d you ta’ keep it sugar,” Bucky laughed, slurring his words a little, not even attempting to dodge the hoodie sleeve Steve slapped his way.

“Shut up, Buck,” he said, still smiling, throwing the hoodie somewhere onto the floor, on top of Bucky’s shirt, smearing come onto the shirt, _welp_ , Bucky thought, _he wasn’t wearing that shirt to work again_. 

Bucky tugged Steve back down, wrapping his arm around his waist and kissing his forehead when Steve cuddled into his chest. 

Steve was the very personification of the rain cloud emoji, on many days and to many people, but he was always, always, cuddly and soft after sex, and Bucky loved it, he loved him so fucking much it hurt sometimes. He knew he was making ‘heart-eyes’ (as Clint was ever-so-fond of saying) down at him but he could’ve bring himself to care, because, when Steve smiled up at him, mirroring his ‘heart-eyes’, nothing else mattered.


End file.
